


Will Graham Has a Nice Day

by deutschtard



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:34:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deutschtard/pseuds/deutschtard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once, Will's day is normal, good even. Too bad it doesn't feel good enough until Crawford calls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will Graham Has a Nice Day

**Author's Note:**

> Based on tstarked's post about Will needing a good day on Tumblr.

It was the first good sleep he had had in years. Maybe it was years, he couldn't remember. The days and nights seemed to meld together in his memory as though his brain had become a blender. Nothing was concrete anymore, just the feel of Winston, jumping up on the bed again to rouse him.

  
"Hey, buddy," he said quietly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as the world came into stark focus. Everything was blank. His walls seemed devoid of color, someone must have come and dimmed the saturation of everything. That was the only reason for things to seem so...dim. He fed each dog, filling each bowl with food and water, being lulled into a sense of calm by the rhythmic slurping and chomping as they devoured their food with fervor.

  
The tea brewed quietly, the loud whistle barely piercing through the haze that seemed to hang over his whole world. He took his glasses off and cleaned them as the teabag steeped in the boiling water, hoping perhaps the lenses had gotten dusty overnight. Glasses back on, the world still hazy, he shook his head and poured his tea as he stared at nothing. Before he realized it, the tea had been forgotten in his hand as he thought of nothing. There were no killers plaguing his mind, no Abigail, no Garret Jacob Hobbs, nothing. His tea was cold, and he left it on the table, going back up to his bedroom.

  
His clothes felt warm, stifling almost, as he dressed, covering himself up well enough to prevent the ever-present early morning chill in Wolf's Trap from seeping through. He almost wanted it to, though, as warm and suffocated as he felt in this dim world of blankness. The dogs scratched at the door as he walked towards it, and they all scurried out as he closed the door behind him.

  
The world outside still lay in a thick coat of fog, only adding to the murkiness in his mind. Winston and the others were marking their territory, barking, being animated, and he followed them. Though he was fully awake, he still felt as though he were in one of his dream states. He kept expecting to see the raven-feathered stag walk out from the forest, but there was nothing. As the dogs played, Winston's ears perked up, running off from the others. Will gave chase, and that's when a small mewling pierced the veil over his eyes.

By the tree at the edge of the field, there lay a tiny kitten, no more than a few months old, its mother lay not far off, maggots already crawling out of her vacant eye sockets. The kitten was weak, and Winston snuffled at it as Will picked it up, "It's okay, shhh, you're okay little one..." he cooed, tucking the little ball of fur into his coat, feeling it shiver in his hand.

  
He wasn't sure he could keep the kitten, not with all the dogs around, but perhaps they would understand and be kind to it, as he had been to them. When the brood got inside, Will checked it for fleas and ticks, thankful to have found none, and gave it a quick, warm bath. It mewed the whole time, its tiny grey paws trying to find purchase against the sides of the bowl it was being washed in.

  
Clean and dry, he gave it a small saucer of milk. "Arthur, come on," he coaxed, having already named the cat. He leaned in and took a small lick from the saucer himself, "like this," he positioned the kitten's tiny head over the bowl, and it began to drink.

  
The dogs were all incredibly interested in the small thing that made noise that their father had placed on the kitchen counter. "You can't eat it," he said, which garnered a few whines from the dogs. Relenting, he grabbed the box of dog treats and threw them into the throng, where they quickly disappeared.

  
He couldn't shake the feeling, still, of a layer of mist blotting everything out of focus. When Arthur had finished drinking his milk, he picked him up and cradled him into his chest, sitting in front of the television in the living room. The news seemed the best thing to watch, perhaps something would help bring the world back into color. Anderson Cooper talked about political breakthroughs in other parts of the world, new laws for equality being signed in. The weather forecast was nice, albeit a bit chilly, but there was nothing on the news interesting enough for him to seem to care about. He couldn't shake the fact that something was missing, something other than the vibrancy of his world view.

  
A knock at the door startled him, though Arthur had already fallen asleep on his chest. He looked at the door for a moment, almost panicking, but nothing else came. Just the singular set of knocks. Carefully, he extricated himself from the chair without jostling the furball too much and opened the door. Will peered out cautiously, not wanting to be surprised by something.

  
He was surprised, but not in the unpleasant way. A card in a pink polka-dotted envelope lay on the space his welcome mat would rest--if he had one. As he stared at it, confused, he picked it up and brought it back to the chair with him, Arthur not making more than a peep.

Will checked it over for any signs that it could hold a bomb, or be poisoned or harmful in any way. When he was sure it was safe, he opened it. The card was blank on the front, just his name printed in a bold serif. Inside it said,

"You probably never hear this from anyone, since they all seem to think you're some sort of freak, but you're actually really amazing, okay? You're not insane, you're talented and intelligent, and most people just don't know how to handle your level of smarts. I get how that feels, the rest of my department doesn't get me, either. But you're great. Don't forget that, okay? Your hair's really nice, by the way, I like guys with a good curl to their hair. But anyway... just. Take care of yourself, okay? Like, better care. Eat three squares and all that BS. I don't want to see you come in looking like you're going to get hit for something. You're better than that.  
                                                              ----A Friend"

  
He stared at it in disbelief for a minute, which stretched into an indeterminant amount of time as he wondered why anyone would have sent this to him. He had a good idea of who, in fact, he was almost positive he knew who it was, but he figured he would ask when they were next together.

Scratching at his arm, he realized he hadn't taken a shower yet, and he was smelling a little gamey. With Arthur still cradled to his chest, he went back into the bedroom, swaddled the kitten in his blankets, and only allowed Winston in the bedroom to keep an eye on him. He'd introduce the other dogs to him later.

The water was hot--and staying hot, for once--and he decided to take a bath, instead. Once the tub had filled, he stripped down, folded his clothes (more out of habit than anything), and immersed himself completely, holding his breath.

His lungs began to burn before he finally arose, gasping for air. But no, the mist from the hot water had mingled with the murk of desaturation that coated the air around him. There was still something off. But the soaking felt nice on his muscles. They unclenched after being in a state of constant alert, ready to fly away at a moment's notice. He washed slowly, then soaked some more.

When the water had begun to get cold, he got out and dried himself off, changing into a clean set of clothes. Winston had curled up around Arthur, and they were both asleep when he opened the bathroom door. He smiled, just a bit, "Are you big brother, Winston?" The dog responded with a low pitched chuffing noise.

He had put on the softest t-shirt he owned, one he did not wear often, and scooped the kitten up to go eat with him. It wasn't lunch, but it wasn't dinner, either. That didn't matter. He ate the food that tasted like it had less flavor than normal, drank a beer that wasn't as bitter as usual, and fed the dogs, though their chomping and scarfing seemed muffled slightly. Something was still off. He decided to pull the pint of ice cream out and eat it with Arthur in front of the television.

There was a movie on the screen, some old black and white movie he'd never paid attention to before. All the lights in the house were off, save his bedroom and the one by the couch. Arthur dozed in his lap as he ate the ice cream, offering a bit to him, which he sniffed at, but declined.

The movie droned as he ate the ice cream, not really paying attention to anything. He couldn't focus on anything today, there was nothing plaguing him, no one coming out of his memories to haunt him, but there was nothing to center his attention on.

The world was getting dark, night was falling, and he let the dogs out for the last time of the night, gently stroking Arthur's fur as he helped him figure out how to relieve himself. Back inside, he checked the clock. It wasn't really late enough for bed, but he thought perhaps he needed to sleep again. Maybe more time unconscious would help the world brighten up again.

Arthur got a special bed next to Winston's, and everyone else bedded down for the night, staring at him, the glow of the heater casting a low light over the dark room. He fell asleep quickly, easily passing into the black nothingness as the world continued to move without him.

His phone jarred him out of a sound sleep. "Hello?" he said, voice a bit higher pitched than normal.

"Will," It was Jack, "Will, there's been an incident at Doctor Lecter's office," the name hit his eardrums and everything came back into focus, the colors splashed back on the walls, life breathed itself back into his body.

  
Will swallowed, mouth having gone dry as he felt everything rush back, loathe though he was to feel it. He was alive again, in that way that made him wary of every shadow,

"Yes, right. I'm on my way."


End file.
